


Silver-White Winters

by anneapocalypse



Series: And Then I Don't Feel So Bad [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Movie Night, Untagged Background Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:12:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anneapocalypse/pseuds/anneapocalypse
Summary: Fighting a made-up war is fun, but sometimes you need more than that to beat the cold, like a movie night with your best friends and the girl you like to kiss.Hints of background Ezra/Terrill.This follows"Snowflakes that Stay on My Nose and Eyelashes,"but you don't need to have read that one first.





	Silver-White Winters

“It’s cold,” Ohio says grumpily.

“It’s always cold,” Iowa replies sagely.

“I know,” Ohio groans. “But it’s colder.”

That isn’t really it. Kind of it. Not really.

 

The cold isn’t a serious problem. Not with their temp-controlled armor. Of course they have to unhelmet to eat, and it’s nice to be able to get a shower here and there with the maybe three minutes of weak hot water that’ll spit from the spigot at one go. But they make do. They _survive_ , because this is life, and this is home, and Vera has her best friends at her side and there are worse things, really, than being stranded on a dead planet with your two best friends and a girl across the bridge that you like to kiss.

It’s not _that_ bad.

It’s just that, well. She’s kind of tired of being in armor.

Misses touching, skin to skin. Misses hugging, without hard plate between. Misses just being a person. Not Agent Ohio, just Vera.

“That’s it,” she says, pacing back to the front of the base. “I’m calling a truce.”

“A _what?”_ says Idaho.

“A truce. A ceasefire.”

“Those don’t mean the same thing.”

“Whatever. It’s cold and I’m sad. We’re going to have a movie night.”

“We don’t have a TV,” Iowa says helpfully.

“We have our holoprojectors.”

“3D makes me sick.”

“No 3D then. We’ll project it on the wall.”

“We don’t have any movies!” Ezra protests.

“Mike has five seasons of _Lost_ downloaded to his helmet.”

“That’s not a movie!”

“Close enough.”

 

“Attention filthy Scarlets! This is Team Cobalt, calling for an immediate ceasefire!”

The open COM crackles to life from the other end. “Talk fast, Cobalt.”

“We call upon you to meet us at the table of peace! Actually, at the table of movie night. We’ll supply the hot cocoa.”

A snicker. “Luring us in with our own stolen goods, eh?”

“A peace offering,” Ohio affirms.

“Hmm. What else you got?”

“Snack bars. The good kind.”

“Peanut-butter chocolate?”

“You got it.”

“Hmm. Tempting. What’s the movie?”

“Agent Iowa is in possession of some old Earth reels.”

“Go on.”

“Five seasons of _Lost_.”

“Weren't there six seasons?”

“The ending sucks anyway.”

“Acknowledged. Allow me to consult with my team. We’ll get back to you.”

The COM goes quiet and Ohio smiles to herself, moving to the back of the base to start getting ready.

 

“Come in Cobalt, this is Team Scarlet.”

“Read you, Scarlet. Will you accept our truce?”

“We will, on one condition. No _Lost._ Darryl has the complete _Battlestar Galactica._ ”

Vera gasps reverently. “The whole series?”

“The whole thing. Do you accept our terms?”

“We accept. Come on over. Bring blankets.”

 

The warmest part of the base is this spot in the back, right above the generator, where three concrete walls enclose a small alcove. Not too small to pile in six people, if you’re creative. Vera drags a crate in and positions it about midway between the walls. Spreads a blanket on the concrete floor where it’s warm to the touch, with the heat coming up from the generator down on the lower level that produces what little power they have in the base. The power comes from wind turbines mounted high above the bases, and so as long as there’s wind—and there is _always_ wind, whistling or shrieking between the peaks and down through the chasm—they’ll have power.

The same can’t be said of their food and supplies. They have enough to last a long time, but eventually their stockpile will run out. Sherry and her team have been broadcasting a radio beacon since not long after they got dumped here on Charybdis X. Someone passing close enough to the system might pick it up. Might drop in.

So far, no one has.

So this is home, for now.

 

Sherry and Terrill and Darryl cross the bridge to Outpost Cobalt. Armored, but unarmed. Darryl pops his helmet off as they step inside. “Four seasons of _BSG_ , comin’ right up.”

Sherry giggles, running a hand through her short brown hair as she unhelmets too. “We’re not gonna get through all of that in one night.”

Vera tries not to grin outright at the sight of Sherry’s smile, her round face and warm brown eyes. She doesn’t see enough of that. “Well then we’ll just have to do this again, won’t we.” She unsnaps the clasps on her breastplate and lifts it off. “I dunno about all of you, but I’m gonna get comfy.

Sherry’s smile widens. “Comfy sounds good.”

 

The six of them leave their armor plate in a heap of blue and red in the front common room. Vera can’t help letting her gaze linger, not just on Sherry but on all of them. How they don’t look like opposing teams anymore, with their armor colors off, just the black undersuits and faces and smiles and laughter.

“Five things you _don’t_ want to see in space!” Ezra throws out from the kitchen, heating up water for the cocoa.

“A space monster!” says Mike.

“Cylons!” says Darryl.

“Q,” says Sherry.

“A planet made entirely of ice,” Terrill says and Sherry and Vera both groan, loudly and in unison, before the whole bunch of them burst into laughter.

Because you have to laugh. How can you not?

The water boils and they mix up their cocoa in steel mugs and Mike remembers to blow on his first, for once, instead of burning his tongue. They shuffle back to the alcove, cups in hand. Vera takes off her gloves to hold her cup, savoring that heat seeping into her hands. The suit keeps you warm, all the way down to the extremities, but… it’s just not quite the same.

Sherry plunks herself against the wall and Vera curls up against her shoulder. Ezra and Terrill sit close, too—out of the corner of her eye, Vera sees their fingers intertwine. Darryl gets the holoprojector running from his helmet, set on the crate in the middle of the floor, and then takes his place between Sherry and Terrill. Mike’s kind of particular about physical contact, Vera knows, but Ezra leaves room at his other side for Mike to sit and lean as much as he likes, shifting every now and again for more or less contact. Vera’s seen _Battlestar Galactica_ before but only once, and the opening miniseries draws her right in like it’s the first time.

It’s still chilly, even with heat coming up from the floor and the temp controls in their undersuits still running and the blankets they huddle under to keep the heat in. When the tip of Vera’s nose gets cold, she buries her face in Sherry’s shoulder, her hair tickling Sherry face and making her giggle. It’s grown out a lot, dark at the roots under the bright pink she had it colored, now faded since Freelancer. It’s nice to be able to have her helmet off for a bit and let it fluff up. She lifts her head, kisses Sherry’s nose to warm her up and presses closer against her. Gosh, this is nice. They might have to sneak off to her bunk together later, after the boys conk out. That’d be nice. They’ve gotten to do that a few times before. Not as often as Vera would like.

But they’ve got to keep up their little game, too, their team skirmishes and battles for the bridge. More than just passing the time, it gives them a purpose, even if it’s a made-up one.

Someday, Vera dreams, a big ship is going to pull out of slipspace and pick up their beacon and send a dropship down to the surface, and they’ll fly away somewhere new. Somewhere with hot baths and soft beds and food that doesn’t come out of a foil pouch. Somewhere with spring, and summer, sunny days that seem to go on forever instead of endless ice and snow. Someday.

And when it does, they’ll go together. They’ve never really talked about that, between the teams, and yet it kind of seems to be a given. Vera can’t imagine leaving here and going somewhere without Sherry—without her laughing brown eyes, her pretty round cheeks and her dramatic command voice over the radio. Can’t imagine going somewhere where she never gets to play Five Things with Ezra and Mike, where she never gets to hear Mike and Darryl snorting with laughter at their own jokes, where she never gets to hear Ezra and Terrill trading hilarious insults like they do over the radio during their battles.

Sometimes she can’t believe she ever thought being top squad would be better than being with these people, right here. Even in the middle of this frozen wasteland, a silver-white winter that stretches as far as the eye can see. Someday, she tells herself, she’ll see spring again—but even now, her friends, and Sherry, might be the best thing that’s ever happened to her. Freelancer might be the biggest mistake she’d choose to make all over again, every time.


End file.
